


Make My Wish Come True

by Shachaai



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Christmas nonsense, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shachaai/pseuds/Shachaai
Summary: Not everyone enjoys Christmas songs first thing in the morning.





	Make My Wish Come True

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from my tumblr.

“If you do not stop humming, I will find the most painful possible way to kill you, and then make it _even more painful._ ”

America, propped up on his elbow beside the face-down, now apparently-awake Belarus in his bed - in the (vain) romantic hope that the first thing she’d see upon waking would be his beaming smile beside her -, his hand still spread on the beautiful slope of her bare back, stops humming mid-note. Mid-bar.

 _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ didn’t even ask for snow, especially now since America hadn’t managed to finish humming that line. (He probably shouldn’t have insisted on watching so many films in the Christmas movie marathon he’d forced England and Canada into joining him on the other day, and they definitely shouldn’t have finished on _Love Actually._ Its music is still bouncing around in his brain on a bright boppy loop.

And England had gotten emotional about Colin Firth.)

“…Wow,” America says after a startled moment. Surprised less at being threatened with a painful death - it’s hardly the first time Belarus has offered to inflict great hurt on his life, limbs, and libido (some of which she’d followed through on) -, and more that he hadn’t realised his bedpartner had joined him in the land of the living. “What jingled _your_ bells?”

Belarus growls at him - it could be a Belarusian expletive, or just threatening fury; America can’t tell the difference - and turns her face even more firmly into her borrowed pillow.

So much for seeing America’s smile first thing.

“…Sorry, darlin’,” says America after another short pause, brushing some of Belarus’ silky-fine silver blonde hair aside so he can lean down and kiss the soft skin over her shoulder. Not everyone appreciates being woken up with music first thing in the morning, and that’s their right. Even if it _is_ remarkably Grinch-like. “Got it stuck in my head, and didn’t realise I was hummin’ it.”

Belarus makes another noise at him, but this time it sounds less like a growl than it does a sleepy grumble. She does not, however, remove herself from America’s pillow, so America lies back down beside her on his side, his arm still slung affectionately over her back.

This is nice. Belarus is gorgeous, the two of them had had fun together the night before, America’s apartment is pleasantly warm, and neither of them have to get out of bed. America can just lie here with his guest, ignoring the world as he drifts back off to sleep, and when they both wake up again, he can make them coffee and bacon and cinnamon waffles.

“America,” says Belarus, muffled but deadly, and America’s muscles lock-up in a freeze. “I can _feel_ you tapping out the tune on my spine.”

…Ah. Right. _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ is still going in America’s head, and, lost in thought, he’d been tapping and swirling his fingers over Belarus’ pretty back in time with the lyrics bouncing through his skull. Belarus’ skin is _so soft,_ it’s lovely to touch, and America had just. Been doing it automatically.

“…I could pick a different song?”

Her arms still buried under the pillow under her head, Belarus turns her face towards him. Just enough that America can see the sharp line of her jaw, the sharp, _sharp_ glare of one slitted ice-blue eye.

“…No Christmas musical interludes then. Got it.”


End file.
